Leading in the Darkness
by Tidia
Summary: Set during Season 2, in Pittsburgh, PA.  A past hunt  had present ramifications for Dean, which Sam does not know about.  Past is seen thru Sam's 14 year old eyes, and Dean is 18 while present is Dean's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Leading in the darkness

By Tidia

Rating: Let's say teen

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Supernatural or its characters.

Notes: This is not Brotherhood related, and is set somewhere in Season 2. I wrote this with the idea that the present day part is Dean's point of view and the past is Sam's point of view. So, it was more a writing exercise and I wanted to add in the info about Saint Anthony's church (all true). This is set in Pittsburgh, and dedicated to Leslie, aka Yahtzee. By the way, this fic is finished, but I like to post in parts over time. All mistakes are my own. Hey to Ridley, lol, who knows my trauma.

Part 1

It was stupid to hate a whole city because of a past hunt. Pittsburgh had its good points. The Steelers. Food was good-a lot of German influence. Schnitzel he liked. The hunt was about ten years ago, and he stopped looking over his shoulder nine years ago.

He looked over one more time because it was Pittsburgh and better safe than sorry. They were not here on a hunt. It was more of an investigation. Relics had been stolen from a church. They needed to find the persons or person committing the crime. Antiquities in the wrong hands spelled trouble. The Colt was an example of that. To the Winchesters it was salvation, to the demon it was destruction.

Dean sprinted as the motel came into sight. He had gone for a run when he awoke early in the morning, leaving Sam sleeping. He entered the room, his sweatshirt stained with sweat and a little out of breath.

"Sam!" He called out to his brother. A quick glance around the room and Sam was not there, but there was a folded note- _Went to pick up breakfast_.

Dean peeled off the sweatshirt. His t-shirt clung to his body. He had brought in the tension bar last night and fastened it to the bathroom doorframe. Dean started with chin-ups. After a set of fifty he kept his body rigid and lifted his legs up and down in a slow, controlled movement. Finished, he removed the bar and stretched, turning on the television.

Sam arrived holding a paper bag and balancing a tray of coffee as Dean was doing squats with Denise Austin. "What are you. . ."

"Working out my quads, butt and thighs and looking at a hot girl." Dean continued the exercises, following Denise's promptings and bending lower.

Sam looked away, concentrating on the coffee and bagels placing them on the small table in the motel room. "It's embarrassing, man."

"Check her out, Sammy." Dean said as he did alternating lunges. "Definitely motivating."

Sam walked over.

Dean pointed to Denise's sports bra and underwear. Even Sam had to admit she had a great body, and there was the sheen of sweat. . . "Motivating, isn't it?" Dean added, seeing his brother's jaw slacken.

"Yeah, but, man, can't you find something else?" Sam found the remote and clicked the television off.

"Hey! Buns of Steel was next!" Dean tried to snatch the remote control back, but Sam tossed it onto the bed. Dean's interest waned as the coffee aroma was too enticing. "What'd you get for breakfast?"

"Muffins." Sam pulled one out and took a bite; the crumbs broke off and landed on the table.

Dean gestured to the bag. "What kind? And don't say bran. I can't choke that down."

Sam shook his head with a smile. "Blueberry."

Dean opened the bag and pulled the paper off the muffin bottom. He was hungry, especially after the workout. "Find anything else out?"

"I walked by the church on my way to get coffee." Sam took another bite of the muffin, chewed, then continued. "Weird that this church in Pittsburgh has the largest collection of holy relics outside of the Vatican."

"That someone is stealing." Dean had finished his muffin in two bites and was looking for another one. His brother always was stingy on the food.

Sam brushed the crumbs off his hands. "Since I had some time this morning I did some research."

Dean knew Sam was referring to Dean's morning workout. "It's important to keep up appearances, Sammy. That muffin is gonna go straight to your hips, pumpkin."

"Guess it's lucky I don't have to work too hard." Sam stretched his tall frame.

"You keep thinking that." Dean took the lid off the coffee, which was hampering his ability to take a large gulp. "So what did you come up with?"

"St. Anthony's Chapel on Troy Hill's collection was acquired by one wealthy priest who founded the parish and used his own money to collect the treasures. He built this chapel to house them back in 1890," Sam read the church pamphlet out loud.

Dean snatched the brochure from Sam's hands. "Anything strange before this?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "People have left their crutches, canes, and eyeglasses at the door as a sign of their miraculous healing at St. Anthony's."

The older Winchester wondered what sacrifice was made for those 'miracles.' He doubted that prayer was enough, especially after what his father had done for him. "So two months ago some relics go missing?"

"Some small stuff, but the priest noticed. A bone fragment from Saint Francis, then a pin from Saint Ursula."

Dean placed the pamphlet on the table. "And now what's missing?"

"A mantle belonging to Saint Stephana and a cup from Saint Theodore."

"I say we check out the church. See what we find."

Sam waved his hand in front of his face as Dean leaned in to see if the bakery bag was empty. "After you take a shower."

"Why don't you go buy some more breakfast? 'cause one muffin is a snack, not a meal. How about some wurst?" Dean retorted as he went into the bathroom to clean up.

"For breakfast?" Sam grimaced.

"Why not?" Dean shrugged. It was like breakfast sausage.

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Dean and Sam parked the Impala. Dean put in all the change he had for the meter, giving them a little over an hour. They walked up the hill to the church wearing their suits. As FBI agents they needed to dress the part. It was a residential neighborhood with older, middle class homes. They reached the church, and entered the quiet sanctuary. Daily morning mass was said at 9 am and had long passed. Sam picked up the church bulletin. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the aisle.

The altar and brightly colored stained glass window were before them.

"Says here the pastor is Father Gomes," Sam whispered.

One of Dean's eyebrows rose. "Why are you whispering?"

Sam frowned. "Because we are in a church."

"We're not Catholic."

The younger Winchester glanced around. "A church is a church." The quietness was interrupted by a tow headed boy entering through a doorway with a toy airplane. He mimicked an airplane sound as his feet hit the marble floor, clattering along. He was quickly followed by his mother, who called out in a loud whisper:

"Jimmy!"

Dean couldn't hide the smirk as Jimmy barreled forward. Dean placed a hand out, stopping the boy before he crashed into him. "Hey there, you may want to think about slowing down."

The mother walked at a fast clip to reach her son. "Thank you." She placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Jimmy, that wasn't nice, especially in church."

Sam and Dean watched as the mother scolded her child. She turned to them to give them a nod.

"_Kill the boy_."

Dean's eyes narrowed. He glanced at his brother who hadn't reacted to the statement. "Pardon me?"

"Thank you again." The mother smiled.

"Do you know where we can find Father Gomes?" Sam asked.

"He's not in today, but Father Martin is in the rectory." She pointed to the doorway, then firmly guided her son past the two brothers.

Sam took a few steps forward, but his brother was not following. "Dean? You with me?"

He turned and looked at the woman's retreating back, then at the altar with the cross hanging above it. Maybe he didn't hear anything. It was just the acoustics. He hoped, either way he was not going to act on someone telling him to kill a boy. It wasn't going to happen. "Yeah, yeah." He stepped forward and followed his brother.

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April 1996

Pittsburgh, PA

"Sam!" Fourteen year old Sam was in the car reading Cry, The Beloved Country and on lookout duty. He had borrowed the book from the library. He usually got books at yard sales, since it was difficult to return library books. He probably had a record with libraries across America.

Reading kept him occupied. He was too young to participate in the hunt. Unfortunately, he still trained with his brother, and was sporting some sore calf muscles after the Ranger trek through the woods. He looked up to see his brother dragging their father, trying to bear most of John's weight while holding a shotgun and a duffel bag looped around his shoulder.

The youngest Winchester dropped the paperback and opened the Impala door assisting his brother by grabbing the gun and bag. Sam saw the blood dripping from a cut on his father's forehead. The way he was hunched over and not talking or giving orders meant there were more injuries. Sam opened the back door of the car. Gently Dean eased their father in as Sam helped to swing his legs inside.

"Dean?" Sam hesitated as he closed the door. Dean ran to the driver's side.

"Gonna be okay, Sammy." It was his patented older brother reply. It wasn't comforting especially when John groaned.

Dean glanced back at his father. "I can fix this." He repeated the statement again as he started the engine.

Sam sat against the door, keeping an eye on his brother and father. John was breathing steadily and Dean was dedicated to driving. "What happened?"

"It was more powerful than we thought." The eighteen year old spared a glance in the rearview mirror.

It was unlike the Winchesters to go into a situation unprepared. In fact Sam had done the research, which his father and brother had relied on. "What? How?"

"I don't know."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, taking blame. "Those articles I found at the library said he murdered his son. The police shot him dead." The exorcism should have worked, and his father should have been unharmed.

"Not now, Sam." Dean cut off his brother's comments in a low tone. "Not now."

Mentally, the young teenager went through the information he had pieced together. Vince Eder was the deceased owner of the colonial style home in Emsworth, Pennsylvania outside of Pittsburgh, ten years ago he had held his son hostage. After a tense standoff with police, he shot his son and the police shot him dead in return. The house had been haunted ever since with curious people being injured over the years.

"Dad?" Sam turned in his seat as he heard John groan.

"He's gonna be fine. . ." Dean made the sharp turn into the parking lot of the Stop and Stay Motel. Dean found a parking space near their room. "Help me get him inside."

Sam opened the car door and was there with a willing shoulder. His brother took most of their father's weight and John shuffled his feet.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean repeated as he opened the motel door with one hand, and used his foot to knock the door ajar. They deposited John on the nearest bed. "Go get the kit, wet a towel and some dry ones too."

The teen reacted swiftly, and gathered the requested supplies. Dean had divested John of his shirt. There were red angry bruises on John's torso, and a diagonal slice from hip above the hip bone and stopping just before the nipple.

"Here you go." Sam swallowed. He hovered, wanting to help.

Dean gripped John's chin. "Dad? Dad? Come on. . ."

John jerked his head, then opened his eyes. "Mmm..Dean? Sam?"

"We're here." Dean confirmed, and looked at Sam with a nod.

John closed his eyes. "Good boys."

Dean shook his head, and rested a hand against his father's cheek. "We gotta fix you up."

"'kay," John agreed, but Sam didn't believe it was a coherent thought.

Dean snapped his fingers, pointing to the kit. Sam rifled through, quickly reading the prescriptions and settled on Percoset. He tossed them to his brother.

Dean removed two of the small pills, opened his father's mouth and closed it. "Swallow, Dad."

John opened his eyes slightly, licked his lips and did as he was told. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, and Sam assisted, knowing what Dean would need. First the wound was washed, and pressure applied until the bleeding had slowed down. By the time this was completed, twenty minutes had passed so the painkillers had started to work. Dean cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide and Sam watch the wound bubble white. Lastly, it was blessed in holy water.

They both looked at the wound, and where it was still bleeding stitches would be necessary. Sam heated the needle and threaded it. Dean took in a deep breath, then began the procedure of sewing the wound.

Sam went to wash his hands, so his presence would not be distracting. He came out the bathroom and prepared the other supplies they would need- ACE Bandage for the ribs, gauze and antibiotic ointment for the wound.

After another twenty minutes, Dean finished. Sam applied the antibiotic ointment, and laid the bandage on top while Dean washed his hands. It took both of them to wrap their father's torso.

John hadn't awakened throughout the whole procedure. Dean and Sam sat on the other bed, and stared at their father. This was their remaining parent.

Dean placed his hands on his knees, stood up and grabbed the car keys from the table.

"Where are you going?"

Dean placed his hand out, halting Sam. "We need some supplies. We passed a place opened 24 hours." Dean glanced at their father. "We need some money too. Watch Dad."

"But, Dean. . ." Sam didn't want Dean to leave him. He didn't want the responsibility of taking care of their father.

Dean placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sammy, Dad's gonna be outta commission for awhile. I gotta do this."

Sam knew his brother was waiting for permission. And he had to give it to him because there was still rent to pay, and food needed. "Okay." Sam nodded.

Dean grinned, then went over to his Dad, and squeezed his foot. "You know the drill. Wake Dad up in an hour if I'm not back by then."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Leading in the Darkness

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Part 1

Notes: Thank you to Ridley who looked at this part for me because I wanted to make sure readers enjoyed it. Thanks for all the reviews. Still keeping with the present is Dean's pov and the past is Sam's.

Part 2

"We're with the FBI." Dean flashed a badge to the priest. Sam was not willing to lie to a man of the cloth. The older Winchester had no such qualms.

Father Martin blinked. The priest was young, probably just out of the seminary with blonde short hair. He was a stocky man, shorter than Dean in stature. "The FBI? I was told this would be handled locally."

"You have some friends in high places, Sir." Sam replied. Dean coughed, covering his guffaw. His brother looked like a choir boy, which evidently placed the priest at ease.

"Well, how can I help you?" He retook his seat in the living room of the rectory, and gestured for Dean and Sam to be seated.

Sam sat in the overstuffed chair, while Dean decided the hardback chair was more comfortable, and wouldn't envelope him. "We'd like to see where the relics were stolen from."

"Who has access to the relics?" Sam quickly followed up.

"The deacons, priests of course. . ." Father Martin ticked off the list.

"The parishioners?" Dean interrupted. If it was a small set of people who had access then the case would be easier.

"No, only on holy days or at the discretion of myself and Father Gomes do the relics go on display."

"Can we have a list of anyone who has access?" Dean asked. He wondered why the police hadn't solved the case, especially with a limited list of suspects.

"We gave that to the police already." Father Martin leaned forward from the couch in suspicion.

And Sam lied effortlessly, probably because in their personal experience it was the truth. "Father, although our jobs are to help people, unfortunately there is always a breakdown in communication between the local and the federal law enforcement."

"They stay out of our way, and we stay out of their way until they call for help." Dean added with a grin.

"Very well, I will have the secretary give you a copy. I guess you two want the tour?" The young priest stood up and gestured for the brothers to follow.

The church wasn't well secured. Some gates with locks were the only deterrent.

"Father, have you thought about investing in a sophisticated alarm system?" Sam asked, noticing the same lack of protection.

The priest chuckled. "The items are valuable and irreplaceable. They cannot be insured so what is the use of a complicated alarm system? This is the first time anything like this has ever happened according to Father Gomes."

"I hope it's the last." Dean answered, wondering if other people would become tempted again.

There were two adorned brass gates, opened with a skeleton key leading to the relic sanctuary. It was a little cooler in the room; they had descended a flight of stairs first to get to the location.

Sam completely took in the area in a full 360 degree turn, looking at the skeleton covered by fine gauze.

"That is Saint Demetrius." Father Martin gestured to the bones. "There are 4,000 items, including 22 splinters of the True Cross, a piece from the table of the Last Supper," he pointed to the piece of wood on a gilded shelf, "and a sliver of Mary's veil."

Dean gave a nod to the sliver of Mary's veil. Perhaps his mother had been named after the mother of Jesus. He would never know. The EMF was in his jacket pocket and while Sam was distracting the priest, Dean took a look at the detector. It was picking up activity.

Sam had bowed his head. "It's impressive."

"No fainting, Francis." Dean commented, recalling when they were last in a Catholic tomb. He kept an eye on his brother, afraid there may be a repeat performance since there was EMF in the vicinity.

The younger Winchester cleared his throat. "We have a partial list of what was stolen. Can you tell me a little bit of their history?"

Father Martin shook his head. "I know very rudimentary knowledge about the relics. Father Gomes is the expert."

"Can we speak to him?" Dean shuddered at all the spooky Indiana Jones relics. He hadn't recalled ever seeing so many antiquities in one place. He squashed the inclination to ask about Holy Grail.

"Today is his day to visit the sick and infirmed. You can leave a message at the rectory and make an appointment to see him tomorrow." Father Martin explained, as he took them further into the vault.

An hour later they were walking towards the Impala.

_"Kill the boy."_

Dean frowned and looked at his brother. "You say something, Sam?"

"I was just saying that we're going to have to watch the church." The youngest Winchester replied.

Dean shook his head. This had happened to him twice, in his brother's presence. It was too much of a coincidence. "How are you doing it?"

"Doing what?" Sam looked around him.

Dean shook his head. He had to give his brother credit-he was a good actor when he wanted to be. "You know."

"No, I don't." The dark haired hunter shook his head.

"Whatever." Dean shrugged his shoulders, two could play at this game and he would be the victor. But, it was unlike his brother to be this cruel. Dean swallowed, wishing they avoided Pittsburgh all together.

They came up on the Impala. Sam tapped the meter by the car before going to the passenger side door. "Someone fed your meter."

"What?" Dean unlocked the car. He vaguely recalled Sam saying they did not buy enough time. However, Dean didn't really care about parking tickets.

Sam smiled, and entered the Impala. "You were a victim of a random act of kindness. Some stranger did you a favor so you would avoid getting a ticket."

"They probably liked the car, or better they were hot girls. . .wished they left their phone numbers." The older hunter let his thoughts temporarily lead him astray until his brother broke his reverie. Thinking about women was better than thinking about voices inside his head.

"Do you think that people are inherently good?"

"As opposed to inherently evil?" Dean retorted as he started the engine, hoping to nip the deep conversation. But a glance at his brother showed he wouldn't be satisfied with a flippant answer. "I don't think they are either. . .I think bad things happen and we're the good that takes care of the bad."

"How about that guy in New York who saved the other guy from an oncoming train?" Sam questioned.

"Stupid?" Dean didn't remember the incident. When he read the paper he was looking for supernatural events, sports and the occasional comic strip. "We have a case about someone stealing relics from a church-there is your inherently good person." And that seemed to summarily silence Sam.

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April, 1996

Pittsburgh, PA

In two hours Sam had gnawed away a fingernail. He had woken up his father after an hour as directed and then remained staring at his father, ignoring the television, his book and other distractions.

He was scared.

A knock on the door made him jump. He peaked through the eyehole and saw his brother. Normally, he would have followed protocol and questioned his brother thoroughly. But, he wanted to be relieved of his duty of watching over their father.

"Dean what the-" Sam opened the door and noticed his brother's disheveled appearance. "You went back to the house." And Sam clenched his fist, angry his brother had lied to him.

"Sam, be quiet." Dean walked over to where his father lay on the bed, studying him for a moment.

"No! It almost killed Dad!" Sam glanced at John, hoping his outrage would rouse their father into consciousness. But, John stayed quiet.

"It's over." Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. Grime streaked across his forehead.

"You got it?" Sam unclenched his fists, feeling the anger dissipate. His brother had been stupid and lucky to come back to them alive.

"I burned down the house." Dean sat down on the other bed, and lifted his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"The house, Dean? Jesus-." Sam glanced towards the door, wondering if the police would soon be there, accusing the Winchesters of arson.

"We were planning on leaving anyway. You said you had a test on Monday." Dean rested his hands on his knees then levered himself to standing.

"Yeah-but…" Sometimes he was surprised his brother paid attention, and listened to Sam's complaints, tried to make them better.

"We'll get an early start." He commented, returning his gaze to their father.

"What about Dad?" John was still pale, and Sam didn't know if they should move him or wait it out. Sam just wished none of it had happened, ever.

"He's gonna be fine." Dean gave his brother a nod, and then flitted through the room, packing their meager weekend belongings.

"He's gonna kill you." Sam stated, wondering what punishment their father would deem as fitting. John discouraged outright willfulness in his children, and Dean deciding on his own to take care of the poltergeist had been foolhardy.

Dean twitched, but then relaxed. "Yeah, well-" He motioned to the bathroom. "I'm gonna go cleanup."

With a little maneuvering, a more alert John lay in the backseat resting as they drove back to their temporary home. All their homes were temporary; Sam didn't even want to refer to them as home. Headquarters was preferable.

As expected John was angry with Dean. Unable to yell, because he was still feeling poorly he spoke in harsh whispers, and even worse frowned his disappointment towards his oldest son with silence.

Once in Philadelphia Dean was informed of his punishment. The punishment was not really punishment-KP duty and extra training. Dean's kitchen duty was normal-he knew his way around boxed food better than any of them- Rice A Roni, Hamburger Helper, Shake N Bake and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and Sam knew his brother didn't mind training either.

Sam slept as Dean went off for an early morning run, his father's requirement until further notice. Dean seemed to take it all in stride, although he was a bit jumpier, checking over his shoulder. Sam assumed it was to make sure their father saw Dean working hard.

They had finished their dinner of frozen pizza. John had healed up and was taking interest in another hunt. Sam was reading a book at the table, while Dean watched the news on the television which could be seen from the kitchen.

"Nice night for a run," John commented.

Sam put down his book. The statement had been directed at Dean. It was a moonless night, rain expected later.

Dean's mouth went into a tight line. Sam could see the reluctance in his brother.

"Dad, I-," Dean began, and Sam's eyebrow rose in awe that Dean was going to contradict their father. But it didn't happen. Dean swallowed, his father missing the apprehensive action and gave a curt nod. "Yes, sir."

It wasn't a long run, but Sam had retired to their room to study. Later on Dean entered the bedroom, and lay on the bed. Sam knew his brother was tired- the early mornings, school, work, chores-Dean was paying for his mistake, and Sam was unsympathetic. Dean shouldn't have risked his own life. "Was it worth it?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know, Sammy. I hope so."

It was a peculiar reply coming from his brother. But, Sam didn't press. "Whatever."

"You done reading?" Dean shifted to his side.

"Yeah." Sam folded over the page on Huckleberry Finn.

"I'm shutting off the light. Night, Sam." Dean reached up and turned the switch.

"Night," Sam answered as he went to his twin bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Leading in the Darkness

By : Tidia

Disclaimer: see part 1

Notes: This is not a Brotherhood AU fic. First, I want to apologize, because I should have written a better story. So I spent the day fixing this part, giving you something better, I hope. (thankfully the other two parts do not need to be changed) Remember--present is in Dean's pov (set sometime in season 2) and past is Sam, which means he has no idea what happened to Dean-- it is all about Sam in a point in time. Thanks for the reviews

* * *

Dean pulled the collar of his shirt. It was early spring and there was still a coldness in the air, winter was trying to hang on. Dean and Sam were without overcoats, remaining in the Impala, being warmed by the sun through the windows. Dean waited while Sam finished his phone conversation, drumming against the steering wheel to a tune in his mind. 

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam closed his cell phone, and tucked it into his suit pocket. "He said he'll see what he can find. Between his information, and hopefully whatever this Father Gomes can provide, then we should get a better idea."

Dean opened the car door. "Might have fifty people to investigate instead of two hundred." They had reviewed the list of people in contact with the objects, and it was too large for them to investigate. They needed to wheedle it down, and then decide what to do next. Dean had also totally convinced himself he was not hearing a voice telling him kill the boy. They led a violent lifestyle, and it was probably effecting him. Once this job was done, then they would take a few days off.

He hoped the priest they were going to talk to would be of assistance. Dean couldn't believe how many names were on the list-everyone who worked at the church, paid and volunteers had access. It was making their job difficult. "God, people are so trusting." Dean could count on one hand those he trusted. Two were family, and his father was deceased. A small list.

They walked up to the rectory and rang the bell. An elderly woman answered, and then Father Martin interrupted, "Sara, I'll take care of them. They are here to see Father Gomes."

Sara nodded, and the young priest escorted them to a side room. "He'll be with you in a minute. He's very informative." Father Martin gave them a smile and left them to wait.

Father Gomes entered without an introduction. Brown haired, graying in his late fifties, the white collar of the priesthood was stark against his olive skin.

"Father Martin said you were with the FBI. Which office?" The priest kept his hands by his side.

Dean didn't expect such a hostile reaction from a man of God. Especially, a priest in a church which allowed everyone to view and borrow priceless objects. "Out of Philadelphia." The older Winchester matched the priest's clipped tone. Dean knew there was an FBI office in every major city.

"I'm good friends with Brian Sullivan," Gomes retorted.

"Good man." Dean responded with a nod. The older Winchester rubbed a spot above his eyebrow. He really hated when people tested them. They didn't get paid for their work, and they did good work, helping people, yet their motives were always questioned. "Sir, we just want to help, if you have a problem. . ."

"No problem, Dean."

Dean frowned at the familiarity. Father Martin must have given him their names, but he studied the priest more carefully. He was a threatening man, but did give off an aura of power.

Sam used his brother's lapse into silence to question the older priest. Dean deferred to his brother to take the lead. "We wanted some information on the objects stolen- what they were used for, and what was supposed to be the result."

The priest gestured for them to sit. He waited until they were seated, and then leaned back in his own chair and crossed his legs. "All depends."

Dean frowned. Simple answers. That is all he wanted. "Depends on what?"

"You have to believe." Gomes smiled.

"Have faith? Neither of us are Catholic, Father." Sam answered. Dean wondered if his brother was going to mention how he prayed on a daily basis.

"This isn't about religion. This is about deliverance, salvation and peace."

Dean was losing his patience. He counted to ten in his head before vocalizing his thoughts. "And if we had all those, then what would the objects do?"

The priest waved his hand. "Whatever your deepest desire, I would assume. Some of the objects have been reported to bring about healing. Isn't that what most people want?"

Dean licked his lips. Yes, he was like most people, not a freak on the fringe. He wanted the best for his family, and the best was for Sam to survive.

"Do you have a lot of sick parishioners?" Sam inquired, shifting in his chair.

"Desperate ones you mean?"

"I guess it does take a desperate person to steal from a church." The younger Winchester commented, and fleetingly looked at his brother. "Terminally ill, perhaps?"

Dean knew the lengths Sam had gone to have Dean healed after the electrocution, and then what his father had done for him after the accident. . Right in front of him he had two desperate people, and he would have done the same, anything to save them too.

This job was not simple. It was complicated, very complicated.

"We like to be generous, and loan out the objects to parishioners on occasion. There is no need to steal." The priest stood up, summarily ending the conversation.

"Father, wait, can you give us a list of your terminally ill parishioners." Sam asked, glancing at his shoes. "Preferably, those receiving home hospice care."

"I don't think so." Gomes started for the door.

"Why?" Dean asked. The items had been stolen. One of the commandments was 'thou shall not steal,' and a priest should want to follow that one.

The older priest crossed his arms. "Because if it is one of my parishioners, which I do not believe it is, but if it is, and one of these people who are dying, their family mourning, and you are going to swoop in and what? Arrest them? Punish them?" Gomes shook his head. "No. There will be no more suffering. That is not the purpose of those objects."

Dean wanted to reply, something to the effect that was the best case scenario-some sick person wanting a miracle, the worse case was the one they usually dealt with, and was more often true than not-people using antiquities to gain power. But Sam interrupted him.

"Father, we promise, if it is one of these people then we will come to you first. We won't make any arrests." Sam nodded.

Gomes sighed, "Very well. Give me a moment." The priest left the room.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He's so helpful."

"Yeah, well, he has a point." Sam shrugged.

_"Kill the boy."_

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed. He opened his eyes, and Sam was looking at him.

"You okay?"

Dean brought a hand to the collar of his shirt to cover up his nervousness. He had heard the voice three times. Two times he could ignore, but three made it a pattern. "Yeah, just this tie and shit. . ."

Sam colored, and cleared his throat as Gomes returned. He handed Sam the list of names. "Here are the ones that I am aware of." He gestured to the door. "Gentlemen, have a good day."

"One more thing," he didn't give Gomes the choice of deciding whether or not to reply. "We met Jimmy and his mom-"

The priest's eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Dean recognized the look. When John was mad he had the same facial reaction. "Jimmy Reardon? Surely you don't suspect a child."

"No, no, Father." Sam frowned at his brother, and pushed him towards the door. "Thank you again for your time."

As they walked to the car, Dean already had loosened his tie, and rubbed his forehead.

"Why did you ask about Jimmy?" His brother said over the roof of the Impala. "Jesus, Dean, the guy already doesn't like us."

Dean ignored his brother's question.

Sam was unable to discern a problem with his brother, and kept rambling. "I hope Bobby gives us some more information. That priest was cagey."

"You would think he'd be nicer, since he works with people." Dean started the car. He grinned at his brother. "Like us."

Sam rolled his eyes, shrugging out of his jacket, folding it up, and laying it on his lap. "We lie to people to get information."

"But we're nice about it." It wasn't their lies that were the issues. When people lied to them, there were usually problems. "So what do you want to do next?" He gestured the list in Sam's hand.

Sam scooted down the seat. "Guess we have to check them out."

Dean sighed. There job was difficult in the best situations, but this, entering some family's home under pretense when their loved one was dying. It sucked. "I think we should split up." Before his brother could interrupt him, he continued. "Hear me out. Two guys going into someone's home is going to make them nervous. One person isn't threatening. Get in, get out and see if there is anything suspicious. We'll get it done faster too."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, what cover do you want to use? I don't want to go in as an FBI agent."

"We got those priest outfits in the trunk . . . offer a blessing, take a look around. . . "

"Is this where I say I really hate this job sometimes." Sam commented, and wiped his mouth. "If one of these families has the objects, then I say we let the keep them and tell the priest. He can deal with it. Okay?"

"Yeah, if that's the case, then I'll be happy to have someone else take care of itI hear you."

SNSNSNSNSSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSN

Splitting from his brother also gave Dean the opportunity to focus on his dilemma. The haunting voice was worrisome. Thankfully, it didn't have any control over him. But, it was obviously connected with their current investigation, and Dean had the feeling he couldn't dismiss what had happened in Pittsburgh before. There was a connection he didn't want to admit, and couldn't figure out.

Father Gomes had given them five names. Sam took three, losing the coin toss. He Dean slipped into the first house as a missionary connected to the hospital. He was taken to the elderly woman's room by her son. He The son appreciated the visit, and the prayer, said in Latin for the repose of her soul.

The woman, stricken to bed, reached out to Dean, and he wanted to shirk back. He accepted the touch, and squeezed her cool hand. A look around, a few questions and he was gone to check the next person on his list.

This time he was invited in by a teenage granddaughter. "I do my homework with Gramps when I get home from school."

They had a hospital bed set up in the living room. Dean immediately spied the statute of the Virgin Mary, but nothing else.

"Gramps! You've got company. Hospital sent him." The teenager gestured for Dean to get closer. "He's hard of hearing so you have to get closer to talk to him. And talk loud too."

"Hi, the hospital asked me to check in on you." Dean felt funny yelling at the pale man.

The sick man smiled. "That's nice of them. Did Melanie send you? She was nice to me the last time I was there."

The teenager nodded, prompting Dean to do the same. "Yes, she did."

"Can we pray?" The bedridden man asked. He lifted up his hand, and his granddaughter clasped it. She stretched out her hand to Dean.

Winchester sighed, but he completed the circle, and held hands. He led them off in a Hail Mary. The contact was awkward. He had never prayed with his father or brother. The closest they came to communing on this level was an exorcism.

In the Impala, Dean divested himself of the priestly vestments and drove to the location of Vince Eder's home. He had burned it to the ground, but wanted to make sure there was no further supernatural activity.

The burned out shell of a home he had left ten years ago had been replaced with a three story duplex. On the lawn were toys and the home seemed well cared for. The EMF didn't react. Dean knocked on the door; spoke to the lady of the house. He told her he was interested in moving into the neighborhood. She kept him at the door, but gave him enough information about the area and the house to assure him he had done the job right. Vince Eder had vacated the premises ten years ago.

It was still early, and he went by Jimmy Reardon's house. He had looked up the address in the local phonebook. There was one C. Reardon that lived within Saint Anthony's parish. He didn't knock on the door, just watched from outside, looking for anything suspicious. But nothing happened, and Dean didn't believe anything would. ,

The voice couldn't make him kill Jimmy, but whatever was behind it wanted the little boy dead. He remained there for thirty minutes, deciding not to tell Sam. If he told Sam then he would have to admit what he had done ten years ago, and he didn't want to worry his brother just yet.

snssnsnssnnsnsnssnsnsnssnsnssnsnssnssnsnssnssnssnssnsnssnsnssnssnsnssnsnssnssnsn

June 1996

Saint Marie, Idaho

In the backseat of the Impala Sam was not relishing the idea of spending the summer in Idaho, hidden away in an encampment, neither was Dean. Surprisingly, Dean was being vocal about his displeasure, while Sam continued to stare out the window at the passing scenery.

"Dad, it's the summer. We always hunt with you."

"Stop whining, Dean." John answered, curtly.

Sam had to agree, it really did sound like a whine. His brother was acting strange; usually Sam got reprimanded for whining.

School had ended. John was packed up, and had the car ready when the boys got home. Summer vacation was usually spent on an endless road trip stuck in a hot car. Maybe Idaho was better. On the road Dad had revealed his plan.

"I have a friend from the Marines. He's willing to help us. You'll be staying with him, while I take care of some things."

Dean turned around, looking for sympathy from his brother. Sam just shrugged. Dean turned back around and kept silent until they reached their destination an hour later.

They were stopped by a rudimentary fence, and two guards with rifles. John spoke to the guards, and they waved him in. He glanced at Dean. "These people believe in their rights as American citizens and the Constitution of the United States."

Dean frowned. "The militia?"

Sam was uneasy. Hunters were their own subset of society, a minor one with fire power, but they didn't live on a commune either. This was dangerous. But, Sam noticed there was a satellite dish. They were at least more modern than most hunters.

A man waved to them, and John glided the car to a stop in front of him. Their father opened the car door and was caught in an embrace and a rough pat on the back.

Dean and Sam both exited the vehicle, and interrupted the two men. John placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Marlon, these are my sons, Dean and Sam."

Marlon was John's age, but his hair was white and in a neat crew cut.

He held out his hand to both boys, and gave a strong shake. "John Junior," he commented to Sam. The younger boy was insulted, more so with Dean nodding in agreement.

"You keep them in line," Marlon gestured to Dean. "Must be a full time job. I know how hardheaded your father can be."

Weird that a perfect stranger recognized the family dynamics, except Sam wasn't like John at all. Sam assumed he was like their mom, easy for him to believe since he had never met her and the fact she seemed so different from his father and Dean.

"I took orders." John grinned.

"But you didn't like it." Marlon snorted. He leaned against the Impala. "You said you needed a place to stay. If you keep walking down, there's a cabin with some potted plants on the pathway. Lester's place. He won't need it where he's gone."

Sam frowned. He was tired and wanted a bed even if they were surrounded by gun-toting zealots. He hoped that this Lester person hadn't died there, then to make it Winchester livable the cabin would need a spirit cleaning. "Is he dead?"

"You're a morbid kid." Marlon shrugged his shoulders. "Him and his wife bought an RV and are traveling the country."

Marlon handed John the key. "I'll check on you in the morning." He winked at Dean. "The place is stocked. Did it myself."

They drove over to the cabin, parking right in front. They carried their duffels inside, fanning out and looking around the place. New places lost their novelty, but they did have to be checked for security. It was a small two bedroom, one bath and an open room with a kitchenette, a table, a couch and television. A fireplace took up one whole wall.

It was early evening, the drive taking two days with a quick motel stop for a few hours of sleep. They had eaten on the road. The boys had taken their belongings to one of the rooms, but their father remained in the kitchen.

"Dad?" Dean questioned when John didn't retire to his room. He gestured for the boys to take a seat, and he was solemn.

Sam heard Dean sigh.

"Look, I thought you two could hole up here for the summer. It'd be fun and Marlon and this bunch can teach you a lot. There are some hunts that I need to get to. . ."

"You're leaving tomorrow." Sam stated. He itched a spot on his arm. He always felt like Dean and he were hindrances to their father, a reason for him not to commit to the hunt because he had to protect them too.

"Dad, who's going to watch your back? You've taught us everything you know, what more if there to learn?"

"Don't interrupt me, Dean." His brother slouched in the chair, boneless from having lost the battle with John. "This is a good opportunity for you both to make some connections. . ."

"With the militia?" Sam didn't want to be G.I. Joe. From the stories his dad occasionally told, it didn't seem the military life was one that he would find agreeable. He enjoyed questioning too much.

John raised his eyes to the ceiling. Sam knew it was John's way of trying to calm himself and ask for patience when dealing with his youngest. "Yes, they are military experts. They will teach you tactics. There are some former special forces operatives too….you two will be teaching me a thing or two when I get back." He squeezed Dean's shoulder as he went to the refrigerator. "I'll check in, I won't leave you for two months on end." He pulled a beer out, twisted the cap off. "Pull your weight, help them out. You know what to do, Dean."

Dean nodded, and the brothers took the acceptance as a dismissal and headed quietly to bed.

Sam slept. He was accustomed to his father's trips, and trusted Dean to watch over him. He awoke to a quiet house, cleaned up and pattered out to the kitchen, wearing denim shorts Dean had made by cutting his too short jeans, and a t-shirt with a faded gas station emblem.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. Dean didn't have a greeting for his brother. "Dad's gone. Left me the Impala, borrowed a truck from someone here. Said he'd meet up with us soon."

Sam wondered what time their father had left as he went through the cabinets and found some cereal, balanced that with a bowl, spoon and milk from the refrigerator. He settled in the chair across from his brother. Dean hadn't moved from his position. "Something wrong?"

Dean shook his head.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know why he kept asking Dean the same question when he always got the same answer. He poured himself a generous portion of Cheerios and dug in. "What're we going to do today?" he asked in between spoonfuls.

"Guess we have to check in with Marlon. They run maneuvers here, preparing."

"Preparing for what?" Sam knew about Oklahoma, and hoped this group of militia wasn't involved. "I don't want to play army games."

Dean shrugged. There was a soft knocking, and Dean glared at the door before standing up. He went to the door, peering out through the eyehole. Since he didn't alert Sam, the youngest Winchester continued eating, safe that all was well.

Sam heard the conversation at the door.

"I'm Adam. I'm 14, heard your brother, Sam, was 14 too. Wanted to know if he wanted to hang out or something?"

Sam pushed back his chair. He wasn't expecting there to be someone his age, yet alone someone who sought him out and wanted to be his friend. He was excited, Dean would call it geeky, but day in day out the only people he was allowed to depend on was his father and brother. He wanted and craved new people.

"Sam! You have a play date." Dean announced, and opened the door wider.

Adam was a little shorter than Sam, wore glasses, had a wide grin and brown hair worn in a crew cut.

"Please, Dean, please," he whispered his plea to his brother. He rather spend time with a perfect stranger than his brother. They spent too much time together, and safe people were a rarity.

"We're just going fishing." Adam shrugged and then looked at Sam. "If you like fishing?"

Sam nodded. "Fishing would be good." Sam gave his brother another pleading look.

Adam had stepped inside the threshold. "We'll meet up with you for maneuvers."

Dean shook his head, and gestured with his chin to the other boy. "What's your name again?"

"Adam. Adam Bastille. We're at number 3, down at the other end. My dad's Tom." Adam stood up straighter when giving the information. It also sounded like he was used to dealing with paranoid older brothers.

Dean sighed. "Go ahead, just check in with me and let me know where you're at."

Sam bounded out of the house with Adam. "I'm Sam." He introduced himself to his new temporary friend.

* * *

Author's Notes: And here is just some fun created by me, Mog, Ridley, Gatorpez, and Lo

**The Rubela Drinking Game**  
Inventors of this game waive any liability in regards to alcoholism, inebriation, blackouts, or vomiting. 

All blame rightfully goes to Ruby and Bela, so called "kick ass" hunters, and their creators. 

Shots of tequila, whiskey or vodka are recommended, but not necessary, just enough to make you forget that the female hunters exist. 

Drink when one of the girls engages in a gratuitous display of toughgirlery. Meaning, knife twirling, knife throwing, gun play, or any other weapons handling at a time when not necessary and/or not actively engaging in a fight with evil. (gun/weapon maintenance doesn't count because a well kept gun is just good sense)

Drink when one of the girls uses a form of martial arts or regular street fighting.

Drink when one of the girls out-drives, out-drinks, out-fights or out-shoots the boys.

Drink when one of the girls out-snarks **or out-cons **the boys. 

Drink when one of the girls knows something about the myth/monster that the boys don't know (historical or technical information i.e. what it is or what kills it, etc.). 

Drink when one of the boys calls one of the girls for help. Basically, any time they call one of the girls when in the past they'd call or go to Bobby (or even Ellen. I.e. Sammy goes missing again and Dean calls them for help).

Drink when one of the girls is used as bait on a job.

Drink when one of the girls uses their feminine wiles to gain access someplace and/or to get out of a sticky situation **  
**  
Drink when one of the girls just happens to be hunting for the same thing as the boys at the same time.

Take two drinks when one brother goes off to work the job with one girl and the other is left to do research or something boring like that. (Basically, plan on taking two drinks whenever one of them show up in an episode once their introductory episode is out of the way)

Make a friend take a drink when your friend expresses frustration over one of the girls (includes anything similar to "I can't believe this!"). 

Take two drinks if one of the girls mentions knowing another hunter (three drinks if it was John).

Take two drinks when, after a fight, the girls are very clean except for carefully placed blood or dirt smears (and the boys look like crap). 

Drink if one of the girls is wearing an outfit where she is baring her midriff.

Two drinks if either actress is sporting a belly ring or a tattoo (most likely on the small of her back, just above her lowrise jeans). 

Drink if they are wearing some sort of weapon (knives, guns), hidden or exposed. [Two drinks if they use aerosol hairspray as a weapon. 

Drink if the girls are wearing any rough-edge jewelry similar to the boys (ex: rings, bracelets, pendants). 

One drink if either of the girls comes on to either of the Winchesters. 

Three drinks if one of the girls kiss either of the Winchesters (or Bobby.)

Use your own discretion if one of the girls actually beds one of the Winchesters **(or Bobby). **


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Leading in the Darkness

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: This story is giving me fits. My usual pattern is not to post until I am finished. I do that because I don't want to make the reader wait too long between posts. This story is done, until I decided I needed to totally revamp it and I used alot of plot convenience. So, thanks to Ridley for saying it really is okay. All mistakes are mine. Ohh, and here is where you all learn what happened to Dean, but in the past Sam has no idea whatsoever.

Part 4

_'Kill the boy!'_

Dean thought he was going crazy, clawing his head, but the mantra kept repeating. He picked up the gun, sparkling silver, unnaturally shiny and pointed it at Jimmy.

_'I'm sorry.'_

And he awoke with a start. He looked immediately at the other bed, but heard the running shower, relaxed back and used the time to think.

While Sam was away he had figured out his hunts on his own. He could figure this out. He knew one thing. It was connected to the church. The voice started speaking to him upon entering the church, and meeting Jimmy. It couldn't be a coincidence.

So Sam and he only had to figure who was stealing the religious antiquities. The problem was this hunt was not going smoothly. Sam's investigation hadn't yielded any results either. He had to give his brother credit for the initial idea of looking at the terminally ill in the parish, but either the person was just a visitor of Saint Anthony's Chapel or the person who had stolen them was not dying. As Dean had thought before, this hunt was complicated.

Dean took in a deep breath, released it, then fumbled for the remote control on the nightstand. He needed some background noise. He found the E! Channel. It was good to catch up on the latest entertainment news, and feed his pop culture habit.

He shook his head as he thought he heard Ryan Seacrest say, _'Kill the boy._'

He was not going crazy, and would not shoot Jimmy. He glanced at the bathroom, weighing the pros and cons of telling Sam. The cons were winning. He didn't want his brother to needlessly worry about him.

He heard the shower turn off, and a minute later Sam exited with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"They're making a Smurf movie." Dean gestured with the remote control, pretending everything was normal.

Sam shrugged, uninterested in the animated cartoon.

But, Dean continued. It was the little stupid things that were necessary to keep up appearances. "Wonder if they will all be blue, 'cause that's kinda racist."

"I called Bobby." Sam abruptly changed the conversation.

"Aren't you Little Miss Sunshine." Dean commented, wondering how he didn't awake during Sam's conversation. He hoped Sam had missed the nightmare tossing and turning, since his brother didn't mention it, then he probably did.

"All those items stolen—all have to do with healing, just like Father Gomes said." Sam gathered his clothes and returned to the bathroom.

Dean sighed, wishing Bobby had come up with more information. The older Winchester changed channels, settling on the local all news network. The image flicked from the anchor person to a picture of Saint Anthony's Chapel. Dean put the volume up.

'Police have arrested a man they suspect is behind the robbery of artifacts at Saint Anthony's Chapel.'

"Sam!" Dean yelled out to his brother. "Get out here."

Sam had shrugged on a t-shirt. "What?"

Dean pointed to the television, and explained what his brother missed. "Some parishioners saw him put it in his pocket and they practically lynched him."

There was a portly, confused man being escorted into a police car, his head being pushed down. Cameras flashed as he looked out the window, and the police car pulled away.

"So that's it? It's over?" Sam stared at the television as he buttoned the shirt he placed on over the tee.

"Listen to the news while I take a shower." Dean stood up. "But, I doubt it. Winchester luck doesn't work that way."

Sam snorted. "'You're right."

Dean went into the shower, and shut the door. He leaned against the closed door. They caught someone stealing an artifact. Like he had just said, the Winchesters wouldn't be that lucky. He would have to go back to the church and see if the voice came back, and even then he didn't know if he could just leave. What if something went after Jimmy? He pushed off from the door. He would have to tell Sam.

He was going to relish his moments in the bathroom alone.

Dean brushed his teeth, keeping the water running. He looked in the mirror, surprised to see not only his face, but a shadow. He spit out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth and looked again, hoping he was just tired or it was the way the fluorescent overhead light hit the mirror.

But, the shadow was more distinct. He stepped back, and looked closer. His image disappeared, and the other image, the shadow, took shape-a human shape.

He licked his lips, and regained the step. He quickly glanced to the door, wondering if he should make a run for it, or call out to Sam. But, he was enthralled by the shadow.

His hand went to the edge of the mirror, seeing about prying the it off the wall. The shadow shifted, swirling again and forming a sinister figure- A bald man, face passive, stared at Dean.

_'Kill the boy.'_

"That isn't going to happen," Dean answered. He dropped his hand from the mirror, and backed away. "I burned the house around you, you bastard." His hand went to the door, but the image was faster. A gray hand came out of the mirror, like a glittery claw, dripping beads of mirrored water.

One swoop of the hand had Dean pinned against the white tiled wall.

He tried to yell out for his brother, but one of the fingers of the claw spiraled up to grip his throat. He tried to move, desperate to get air as he took in a gulp in, but stayed stuck in his throat.

He was released for a second then slammed against the wall once more. Surely, his brother would hear something, anything. It was like he was reliving his first meeting with Vince Eder all over again.

_'Your promise or another will. Kill the boy.'_

Sam knocked on the door. "Dean?"

Dean tried to yell out his brother's name, and came out with a raspy exhale.

It was enough. Sam kicked down the door. The wooden door slammed against the wall, making contact with Dean's right leg. Dean wanted to scream as his knee throbbed, but the distraction also caused the spirit to release Dean.

He landed in a heap on the floor, hitting the side of his head and back. He couldn't give into the pain. He tried to get to his feet as the claw came through again.

White granules rained down. He lifted his head; Sam was above him with loose rock salt still gripped in his hand.

The younger Winchester bent down, and pulled Dean by grabbing a fistful of his brother's t-shirt. Sam got Dean through the door, slammed it shut and placed a line of salt in front of it.

Dean stayed sitting on the floor, watching his brother. Sam crouched down.

"You okay? What was that?"

Dean tried to shake his head. He wanted to make a joke about throwing the salt, "You seasoned the spirit?" But nothing came out except a whisper sounding like, "SSSSSS."

Sam's face swam in front of him, and Dean lifted his hand to his head. It was wet and then the encroaching darkness narrowed to a pinhole and there was nothing.

The first sensation Dean felt was a cold wetness on his right knee. He started his assessment from there. He felt sore. He had a distinct headache. He could feel heat emanating from his throat.

He wanted to remain unconscious, but his injuries were calling for painkillers. He opened his eyes. Sam sat in a chair beside him, bent over, hands clasped.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Dean?" Sam moved forward. "How're you feeling?"

Dean loved the fact Sam's peppering of questions allowed him time to gain some composure. He rubbed his throat and winced.

Sam must have understood. He handed Dean a bottle of water. Dean used his elbows to sit up. Getting up, he saw the icepack on his knee, explaining the cold sensation.

Sam helped him by setting a bracing arm behind his back. Dean took a few tentative sips, letting the cool water sooth his throat. "Painkillers?"

Sam nodded. The first aid kit was open on the other bed. He pulled out a bottle and shook out two pills. Dean washed them down one by one as it irritated his inflamed throat even more.

"Do you know what that was? Because I have a pile of salt by the bathroom door, and I don't know if it's enough."

Dean shrugged and felt his back twinge. It would take a bit for the painkillers to work. "I have an idea." Dean plucked at the sheet.

"Care to enlighten me?" Sam asked.

Dean kept his eyes down. "I've been hearing a voice-"

"What?" Sam sat straighter in the chair. "Since when?"

Dean sighed, and looked at his brother. He was going down a slippery slope. He had to share the information with his brother, but he didn't want the reaction. "Since the first day at the church."

"What's the voice telling you?" Sam said calmly.

Sam could get a high and mighty attitude, and the condescending tone that sounded like Sam was speaking to a five year old, irritated Dean. "Damnit Sam, I'm not crazy. Just let me tell the fuckin' story."

Sam put his hands up. "Fine."

"Remember that kid? Jimmy?" Dean swallowed. "Well, that spirit wants me to kill him." He cleared his throat, trying to work out the hoarseness. "That 'thing' that you just got up close and personal with. . .well, that was Vince Eder."

Dean saw Sam's vacant expression and was slightly disappointed his brother didn't remember. "About ten years ago, we had this hunting gig in Pittsburgh. This guy, Vince, had killed his son about ten years earlier and was haunting the place. Dad and I went in, and Dad ended up getting hurt. I decided to finish the job."

Sam remained quiet, but rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Dean licked his lips, and plunged forward with the explanation. "Wasn't the best idea, but Dad was in no condition, and you wanted to get back to wherever we were staying 'cause you had a test or something." Dean waved his hand. "Didn't matter. The job needed to be finished." That's what he had told himself at the time. But he also knew he thought by going back he would make his father proud. He had been ill-prepared and too cocky, believing where John Winchester had failed, Dean Winchester would excel.

He walked into the house. He had memorized the ritual in the car. He started on the first floor of the colonial style home. He had to purify the house, and did this by burning sage. He started up the stairs on alert, but it wasn't enough. He felt his legs give out underneath him; he fired as he stumbled down a few steps, but then dropped the gun as he was lifted from his two feet. He was propelled by an unseen force so that his body, head first dangled over the landing. Dean struggled, trying to reach out to the banister. If he was dropped he would crash thirty feet into the hard wood floor below.

"I was dangling over a staircase. No one was going to save me. Dad was hurt; you thought I was at the store. So he offered me a deal." In truth he had shamelessly begged for his life, unwilling to die for his stupidity. "He would spare my life, but one day he would call on me and I had to do what he asked." Dean shrugged his shoulders, wincing as his back flared up. "I took the deal, then burned down the place, figuring the double cross would do him in." Dean wiped his palm with his thumb, recalling how nervous he had felt that whole summer. Even more scared no one picked up on the change in his demeanor. He had covered and then returned to normal. Life went on and there were other crises more pressing than an agreement he had made for his life, which may or may not be collected.

Sam took his brother's silence as the opportunity to speak. He stood up, pacing two steps. "You made a deal, Dean-"

Sam was not going to lecture him about deals, about the crossroad demon, about Dad. Not going to happen. The Winchesters played cards, pools and games of chance. They excelled in cons. Their lives were about deals, whether they wanted to admit it or not. It was the ramifications they never considered. It was why he was still considering the crossroad demon's deal. "I made a frigging, brilliant deal-best one of my life. I didn't want to die at 18, Sam. I didn't, not like that." He didn't want to die alone. He wanted to die saving his father or brother.

"Calm down, Dean. I get it. It's just making agreements with something evil..I-"

Dean felt guilty for raising his voice. "Yeah, I know."

Sam rested his hands on the back of the chair. "I'm glad you made the deal, man."

Dean appreciated the sentiment. He had stayed alive for his family, for Sam.

Sam took his seat once more. "So, Vince is calling in his marker?"

"Yeah, but I don't get it. I've heard the voice three times, all at the church. This doesn't fit."

Sam shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry, call me crazy and start looking up the symptoms for schizophrenia or something." Dean smirked, bringing some levity into the situation.

"How about we get out of Pittsburgh, regroup, figure this out. . ."

"Can't leave. Started here and ends here, and if I don't do the job, then something else will go after that kid. That's what he said." Dean pointed to the bathroom. "I'm not leaving that kid defenseless." Dean shifted his legs over the bed.

"Whoa, where're you going?" Sam placed a restraining hand on Dean.

"Bathroom." He still really wanted his shower, and more urgently his kidneys were about to burst.

Sam chuckled. "You wanna go in there? I think we should find a new place."

Dean rolled his shoulders. It hurt, but everything was working. The painkillers were removing the stiffness too. "Just take down the mirror." Dean thought for a moment. "Break it too," he added with a wry grin. "If it happened here, it'll probably happen in some other motel too." Dean flicked his brother's long hair. "Guess you're not going to be able to do your hair just right, Princess."

At the mention of his hair, Sam raked a hand through it.

Dean shook his head, stood up, and wavered a bit, but Sam was there to steady him.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's forearm.

Dean gripped his hand around Sam's forearm, letting his brother know he was fine. Sam released the grip first, and went to the bathroom. He made quick work of the mirror, taking it out with him, breaking it and muffling the sound by placing a towel over it. "Dean, you burned the house. How it this spirit attached to anything or anyone?"

"Beats me." Dean answered, halfway in the bathroom. "I went back to the house. It's clean."

"Go take a shower. Let me see what I come up with." Sam said as he went towards his laptop.

Dean smiled. This was one of the pros about telling Sam. They could work through it-each of them looking at the situation from a different angle. The bathroom was strange without a mirror. He was slightly unnerved by taking a shower the same place he was attacked. But, facing one's fears was a Winchester family trait. Right up there with stubbornness.

A quick shower and Dean toweled his hair dry. He gently patted the cut in his hairline. He was thankful the painkillers were working. He had seen his knee and the bruising was spectacular.

He exited the bathroom, and noticed the stick figure drawings on the wall. Sam never excelled in art. "Don't give up your day job."

Sam had his arms crossed, studying what he had taped to the wall. Dean took it all in—three columns, one for Vince Eder, one for the church and one for Jimmy.

"It's not a possession, is it?" Dean pointed to the posted information.

Sam had written Vince Eder's birth date, death, and when the house burned down. Near the church were the articles about the antiquities.

Sam opened his computer. "Says here that they haven't found all the stolen items. Someone still has them, and it's not this poor guy. I think he's just the patsy." Sam pulled down a list from the wall. "And I think it's one of them-one of these people at the church that we've come into contact with."

Dean raked his hand through his still slightly damped hair. "So we have to figure out the connection to the church." He didn't see how this all fit. There was no coherent pattern.

"Why Jimmy?" Sam interrupted his thoughts.

Dean cleared his throat. "The kid is what-six or seven? Who did he piss off?"

"But, like you said, this isn't a simple possession. I think there's more to it."

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Okay, geek boy, then what the hell is it? Something like possession, but not quite. . ."

Sam frowned, and pushed Dean out of the way, reaching for their father's journal. He flipped through the pages, then thrust the open page at Dean. "What's like possession, but not?"

Dean frowned. "Is there a punch line?"

Sam tapped the journal. "Reincarnation."

Dean glanced down. He was familiar with the journal. "Dude, reincarnation is about nirvana, ultimate happiness. . ." And Dean gave his brother's idea some thought before he dismissed it. "So Vince isn't going to be happy until he kills his son?" Dean tapped Jimmy's photo. "And he thinks this kid is his son reborn…" His father had just mentioned reincarnation in his journal, nothing more. Evidently, John didn't give it that much weight.

"Kinda strange. But, there is stuff that we've seen that Dad hadn't, and we usually stick to Christianity, but every religion has its issues." Sam rubbed his chin.

"We're all about fairness; don't want anyone to be left out. Maybe we can throw in some Judaism too." But Sam was ignoring his brother. Dean recognized the look in his brother's eyes. He was relishing the challenge.

"Give me a sec, and let me see if I find a Buddhist temple we can visit." Sam stated.

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June, 1996

Saint Marie, Idaho

Sam saw his brother a couple of times during each day- meals, maneuvers and bedtime. Surprisingly there was a lot to do in the compound. Adam had grown up there, and introduced him to other teens. They were home schooled year round by Adam's mother, and she was thrilled Sam wanted to join in. They were abbreviated days, but Sam believed he would benefit by keeping ahead.

Dean excelled in different studies, and even though they were surrounded by inherently warlike people, it was peaceful. His brother seemed uncomfortable at first without their father, but relaxed over the next few weeks. He split his time between helping with farming, and mechanic work to learning about covert operations.

Over lunch or dinner Dean would inform Sam about things he was learning while Sam was occupied, just in case their father was to ask. However, John had been gone three weeks straight, calling to check in with his sons with a promise to return soon.

"Did you know that marinas are good places to hide out?" Dean said between muffled chews of a ham sandwich.

"Why?" Sam couldn't figure it out. As a family they hadn't spent much time near the water.

Dean smiled. "People are always moving in and out and there is hardly any crime there."

Sam was impressed. It did make sense. "Don't tell Dad. Next we'll be living on a houseboat."

Sam continued to be impressed and slightly scared of his brother. For all intents and purposes Dean was learning how to be an expert terrorist.

One evening, the weapons were placed on the coffee table for a thorough cleaning. Dean had made extra thick salt lines by all the windows and doors. Sam noticed they were always there. Usually they only set the salt lines at night and swept them away in the morning. Sam didn't question his older brother about his new pattern.

Sam was reading The Grapes of Wrath, and the television was on in the background with a repeat of The Dukes of Hazard. "Shooting is a science, Sammy," Dean commented as he cleaned methodically. "It's about how fast the bullet takes off, retains energy, flight path, and atmospheric conditions."

"Sounds like a religion." Sam turned the page.

Dean finished with the .45 and went to the next gun. "The guys want me to shoot instinctively. You need to look at your opponent, not the sights, then two shots in the same spot-fast to make sure it's fatal."

Sam frowned and closed the book. Spirits and evil were what the Winchester family had committed to fighting. "Dean, we don't kill humans." Sam sickened slightly at having to remind his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I know that, Sam, but it is all about responding to the unexpected."

"I guess." Sam bit his lip and returned to reading his book.

A few days later, Dean stumbled in the cabin, worn and tired. He went to the kitchen, opening the faucet, placed his mouth hungrily underneath and drank. He stood up when he was finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you grab some lunch?"

"Yeah, at Adam's house. His dad said you were on some sort of hike?" His friend said they weren't required to the hike, instead there was some map plotting for them, and time to play a game of baseball.

"Hike?" Dean laughed as he rolled his shoulders. "Eighteen miles with a forty pound rucksack."

Usually, Dean took care of their lackluster meals. Sam took the initiative and opened the freezer. "We got a frozen pizza I can make?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good, Sammy, let me take a shower."

Idaho had been practically a vacation for Sam while his brother was training without complaint. Dean could easily have been a slacker, since their father was not around. But, Dean had thrown himself in and allowed Sam a reprieve. It was an unusual situation, they both fit in; Dean with his soldier like understanding, and Sam taking advantage of being fourteen. He was different than Adam, and the other kids. They were all planning military careers, and Sam's dreams were a bit bigger. Sam thought about thanking his brother, but found it unnecessary. The pizza showed gratitude.

A few days later, after class, Adam pushed Sam out the door when usually they lingered. With only twelve students they were all friends and made plans to get together later.

"Come on, hurry up, they're working on the cars today. It's too cool."

Sam dragged his feet. His brother and father enjoyed fixing cars, were good at it, but he didn't participate in that particular Winchester trait. Instead of cars being placed on blocks, Sam saw them going around a makeshift track. The cars slid around the dirt track, kicking up dust with each movement.

"That's Dean!" Sam exclaimed, seeing his brother behind the Impala's wheel. This was a lesson he couldn't wait for Dean to show him.

Adam waved his arms in the air. "Yeah, Moses is teaching him how to bring a car to a controlled stop, slides, braking and reversing. . ."

Sam felt like an idiot. He was usually much more mature, but there was something about watching Dean drive the Impala. It was fun and exciting. Sam cupped his hands around his mouth. "Woohoo!"

June came to a close with preparation for the fourth of July. The militia believed in having a big celebration. Sam sat next to his brother at a picnic table as fireworks lit the sky in no apparent order. And Sam thought this was the way it should be with his brother by his side.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

Leading in the Darkness

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: Thank you to Lita who made a suggestion which worked so well! Buddhist information is directly from the Pittsburgh Buddhist Center. Ridley reviewed the first draft, but hasnt seen the changes--I hope it makes sense. Just to remind you-- present is Dean's point of view, past is Sam's and he is really foccusing on himself (he is a teenager after all). Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! They are a great surprise for me. There is only 1 part left after this...and then Mog and I have a special Brotherhood treat before the season premiere.

* * *

Part 5

"I remember, you know, I was 14, and we spent the summer in Idaho." Sam commented.

They were driving to the Pittsburgh Buddhist Center, recently opened and willing to talk to anyone about Buddhist teachings. Dean gave a half shrug, his hands on the steering wheel. He interpreted Sam's statement as an apology. Dean had been so jumpy then, and used the time in Idaho to regain his confidence in his ability to protect Sam. "Dad and I holed up with them for a month while you were in school. Best place to get some weapons, and work out the kinks."

"And Adam?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Moved on."

Sam was pensive for a moment. "Yeah, but anyway, that case with Vince Eder-you left me with Dad after he got hurt." Sam said, interrupting the low tones of the local rock station Dean had found during Sam's momentary silence.

The older Winchester brother remained matter-of-fact. "Seemed like a good idea. It was only a weekend hunt. You had to get back to school, and Dad just wasn't in any condition to finish it up." All true statements. Looking back Dean could see it was his selfishness, his neediness to prove himself and his worth to his family.

Sam rubbed his chin. "How come you didn't tell Dad or me about the deal?"

Dean hated to entertain his brother's questions, one led to another, and he had to put a stop to it. "You were a kid, and there really wasn't much Dad could do about it except hold it over my head. I learned that lesson already, didn't need a repeat." The shrtiga had proven that, punishment was better than disappointed silence. "It was just about me." He was surprised Sam was berating him about keeping another secret, too caught up in his own supposed dark destiny. Dean changed the topic back to the case. "So what do you know about this Shirley Maclaine stuff?"

Sam sighed. "Past lives, you mean…Shirley Maclaine? Do you even know who she is?"

"Some old chick that's into that stuff." Dean grinned. He knew enough, but in his experience Sam felt important by educating.

"Yeah, well, I pulled some stuff from the net. According to Buddha we carry our unfinished business, unlearned lessons, and unresolved thoughts with us from life to life."

"Damn, I'm screwed." And he honestly meant it. If he believed in an afterlife or religion then he would have issues, because in this life there would never be any resolution. But, being Dean he had to make a joke out of the situation, to lighten the seriousness. "Like I was Arnold Schwazenger in another life?"

"He's not dead."

"Charlton Heston?" Dean mentioned the NRA supporter he admired, well, actually his father had admired every time they bought a new gun.

"He's alive too."

Dean ignored his brother. He knew Charlton Heston was still alive.

They pulled right in front of the Buddhist Center. Dean laughed when he saw the auto dealership across the street. The location didn't seem appropriate for a place which was offering enlightenment.

They walked in and were greeted by a bald headed, orange robed monk. Dean didn't catch the name, too long and complicated to remember for a one time only meeting. The center itself was very peaceful, and although he usually found incense overwhelming and cloying, in this situation it was restful. The monk gave them a tour, which Dean assumed would take only ten minutes. The Center was small, a few rooms, but the monk walked slow and ten minutes ticked by before they even started walking.

Sam took minuscule steps, not using even a quarter of his stride. Sam also bent over to ask the shorter monk questions. Dean stayed back, trying to control his snickering.

"What happens when a person dies?"

The monk patiently answered the question. "The death of a person destroys the physical body. However, the person's intelligence energy or mind is destined to be reborn based on Karma."

They paused at one room, decorated with paintings by children. The monk explained this was used by some parents when they wanted to seek some solitary time.

Dean found it an appropriate opportunity to ask his question. "And how do you explain," he whistled and smiled. He didn't want to shock the monk by actually using the word sex, "and babies?" Dean pointed to the pictures. He was confused by what the monk had just said—did Buddhist have sex or children? What was the need if there was this energy that found a body to takeover?

Again, the monk was unfazed. "Conception begins with a man and a woman. That is the seed of life. To my understanding, the intelligence energy of the mind uses this physical seed to grow. Imagine a radio. When we switch a radio, a signal is received from far away. No physical connection is observed. This is the concept of energy. So upon ones death, his or her intelligence energy select a proper place for rebirth based on karma."

Dean remembered seeing his mom at the old house in Lawrence, and how she had appeared physically, but also manifested an energy. There was probably a particle of truth in the beliefs of the Buddhist. There was probably some bit of truth in all religions, just not enough for Dean to subscribe to any one of them. "Wait, so a person has to die, and then this energy goes into a newborn?"

"In a way, yes, one dies before the rebirth into a newly created person." The monk replied.

Dean caught his brother's attention. This was important, and Dean began to think it over. But, what was more interesting for Dean was the lack of reaction from the monk. Dean relished a challenge; Dean was going to fluster the monk. Sam interrupted his musings.

"And what is nirvana?"

The monk was serene as he explained, sharing the Buddhist's supreme secret of life. "Nirvana is the cessation of the rebirth process. Once we remove all attachments to everything, there is no reason to be reborn. This is the attainment of Nirvana."

Dean didn't know how this lesson in nirvana was helpful. They needed to know how Vince Eder, someone evil could be reincarnated. "What about de-incarnation?" He asked as the stopped in the hallway, looking at some painting.

"I don't know what you mean."

Dean smiled. He had reached his goal very quickly, the monk seemed tense. He had confused the monk. "Like possession, an evil spirit being reborn?"

It took the monk a moment to answer, and regain his tranquil expression. "The evil spirit is a grudge of the dead. The grudge needs to be cleansed for easy passage." The monk moved the tour on to a room at the end of the hall.

"How would we know that someone carries grudges, or is carrying bad karma with them?" Sam asked as he bent over again. Every time he asked a question he looked like he was bowing, as if he was going to start a sparring session with a karate master.

The monk stopped, the tour coming to its conclusion at room with a white marble Buddha. "Call it by its real name. If it responds then you have identified the origin of evil."

"One more thing," Dean added, poking his head in the room. By the statute were candles and incense sticks inserted into trays of sand. "Is there any way you can write down the exact ceremony that is used to exorcise the spirit?"

They reached the car with Sam still looking in disbelief at the concise directions written by the monk. "Dude, 'can you write down the exact ceremony?'"

Dean shrugged. "He did, didn't he? And I didn't have to do that funny bowing you were doing. Sometimes, Sammy, you have to be honest. .."

"I was not bowing. I was trying to show respect." Sam stated as he entered the passenger side of the Impala. "Hey, can we grab something to eat? Maybe try to figure out a plan?"

Dean's head was starting to ache a bit, but he rather be out than laying in a bed. "That'd be good." He scratched the back of his head where Sam had patched him up. "Remember that movie with Keanu Reeves, and this monk finds these three kids that he believes is the reincarnation of this other monk?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not really. I would figure the only Keanu Reeves movie you would know are Speed and The Matrix."

"Yeah, those were good, this movie wasn't." Dean said as he pulled away from the parking space. "But these kids ended up showing traits of this dead lama. Three kids. I am thinking about what that monk told us-someone has to die _first_ to be reborn into a _baby_."

"This came from a movie?" Sam seemed skeptical.

Dean shook his head, his brother could be so single minded. "Yeah, not everything is in a book. I needed to learn about religion, and had some downtime." The downtime being when Sam was at school, and Dean didn't have his trusty geek boy. "We got Christianity covered so-"

"Don't tell me you watched Yentl for Judaism?" Sam snickered.

He remembered the obscure movie about Orthodox Jews. "Nope, A Stranger Among Us with Melanie Griffith."

Sam rubbed his chin. "So, wait, then Vince Eder has to be reincarnated in someone who was a baby or just conceived when he died."

"How old would you say Father Martin is?" Dean asked with a smile.

"Late twenties. I can look it up when we get back to the motel." Sam smiled too. "Now, we just need a plan."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I have a plan."

"I'm not yelling the name, Vince Eder over a loud speaker at the church." Sam commented with a smirk.

Dean didn't reply. That was Plan B. Plan A was better.

They pulled into a small diner, a retro looking place with 50's era silver siding on the outside. There seemed to be a constant flow, even for late lunch. Regulars talking to each other, and the people behind the counter didn't give them a second look. They took a small booth, and both decided on the meatloaf.

_'Kill the boy.'_

Dean winced, and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I think I lost my appetite."

"What?" Sam asked as he drank the glass of water the waitress had placed on the table.

"Voice in my head." Dean folded his arms and placed his head to rest upon them for a minute.

Dean heard the glass returned to the table. Sam cleared his throat. "Here." He heard something slide across the table.

Dean looked up saw the pain killers he had taken earlier in their golden bottle. He knew his brother was worried, but he had no inclination to hurt anyone, and had not heard any voice since this morning

They decided to have the meatloaf packed up so they could return to the motel and look up Father Martin's birth date.

Dean ate his meatloaf on the bed with the Styrofoam tray on his lap. Sam intermittently took bites, and tapped keys on his laptop. "I got it. It's gotta be Father Martin."

"Then I have the plan." Dean outlined his plan to his brother, feeling better since the painkillers also seemed to silence the voice as a blessed side effect.

They headed to the church as part of Dean's plan.

Yellow tape surrounded the front entrance of the chapel, but the police had long since left. Dean and Sam cut through the tape and entered. The church was quiet, except for a strange gurgling noise coming from the back.

Dean took a step forward to investigate, but then relaxed as Jimmy came in, something in his hand which he was twisting around while he made a sputtering sound.

"Hey Jimmy, your mom know you're here?" Dean greeted the little boy. He generally liked kids, liked it when Sam was one, and more malleable.

Jimmy nodded with buoyancy. "Yeah, she said it was okay and I had to come right back." He lifted the white toy in the air to show Dean. "You need room to fly airplanes."

Dean placed the plane in his hand pretending to study it, then handed it back.

"This is a DC-10. It's really big." Jimmy put his arms out wide. "I have a 747-"

"You're really into planes." Sam commented.

"My grandpa used to be a pilot." Jimmy again started his imaginary plane flying game.

"Cool," Dean replied. But, it wasn't. The kid needed to be into cars not planes. However, Jimmy's appearance was an unexpected opportunity. "Jimmy, when you play in the church do you ever see anything strange?"

Jimmy shrugged, but Dean pressed forward. He knew he was lacking finesse, but it wasn't like a kid would notice. "Hear anything? Even it you think it is just in your head?"

Jimmy shook his head, and began the sputtering noises.

"Nice try," Sam commented, and the brothers followed the boy out as escorts.

They made sure Jimmy returned to his mother, who was in the rectory. They were about to leave, since they had completed the first part of their job when Father Gomes found them by the door.

"Gentlemen. I am surprised to see you here. We appreciated your assistance, but it does seem the culprit was found."

They were being dismissed, and Dean smiled his retort through grinding teeth. "The police are saying they haven't found the objects. . ."

The priest placed a hand on Sam's shoulder as to escort them out. "I am sure they will. Faith, and have a good trip back to Philadelphia."

"Thank you." Sam gestured with his neck to the door.

Dean picked up his brother's blatant hint. "Okay, well, good luck with everything."

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July, 1996

Saint Marie, Idaho

Sundays were an issue. Church was a requirement amongst the militia. John had not brought them up in any religion. Reading the Bible was a job necessity, not a manual on life. But, they had to respect their hosts so they attended church, sitting on benches under a makeshift tent.

They fanned themselves with the King James Bibles placed under their seats. Dean would use the time to flirt with the girls wearing their Sunday best. The Winchester version of Sunday best was their jeans, a wife beater and a button down shirt over the undershirt.

Sam tried to pay attention during the service. There were two readings and then the homily. Somehow the preacher, a former military man who found God, twisted everything to propaganda their way of life.

"In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus tells the story of a man who has two sons. The younger demands his share of his inheritance while his father is still living, and goes off to a distant country where he wastes his substance with riotous living, and eventually has to take work as a swine herder. There he comes to his senses, and determines to return home and throw himself on his father's mercy. But when he returns home, his father greets him with open arms, and hardly gives him a chance to express his repentance; he kills a fatted calf to celebrate his return. The older brother becomes jealous at the favored treatment of his faithless brother and upset at the lack of reward for his own faithfulness. But the father responds:

Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."

And Sam glanced around and saw the murmuring of agreement. He didn't know what they were agreeing with that the younger son came back or the older son stayed.

The preacher seemed to be looking at Sam as he went through his homily. Sam fidgeted, Dean kept looking at Tracy.

"The younger son recognized the error of his ways and returned. He received his father's forgiveness. And the older son, he will be rewarded too for his steadfast obedience."

Sam understood. If you left the compound, came back to your senses and returned, then you were accepted again. They wanted the people who left to come back. There would be no punishment.

Sam decided if he left hunting, then he wouldn't go back. Maybe visit Dean or Dean could visit him and they could go on a vacation. He looked at Dean, but his brother was focused elsewhere, making the most of their situation.

Finally, they were dismissed from church, and everyone filed out congratulating the preacher on a good sermon.

Dean went to speak to Tracy, while Sam hung out with Adam and the others from school. Sunday was a day of rest, and they were already making plans to head out into the woods and do some hiking.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Dean, still taller than him, but Sam knew he was gaining. His brother had a wide grin. "Tracy invited us over for lunch."

Sam told his friends he would meet up with them after lunch. Dean's flirting skills did have its benefits. They were always invited to Sunday lunch.

To be concluded on Sunday


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Leading in the Darkness

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Author's notes: This is the end. All mistakes are my own. All the info about the Buddhist exorcism is true (and interesting). Thank you for all the kind reviews-- I truly appreciate it since this story drove me a bit insane. But, once I started it then I wanted to finish it--I feel as though I owe it to the reader.

Part 6

Dean rested again once they returned to the motel, propping his knee up on a pillow while his brother gathered what they would need for the Buddhist exorcism. He wouldn't admit to Sam that he felt sore, but nothing that would impede him.

"How's the arts and craft project coming?" Dean asked as he pressed the channel up button on the remote control.

An empty can was thrown at him, but Dean easily avoided it, then threw it back at Sam, who caught it.

Sam was busy making a shakujo. The monk had said that the wooden staff with metal rings threaded through was needed. The sound it created was supposed to scare evil spirits away.

The monk would not loan them his shakujo, or even sell it to them. Sam looked it up on the internet, and the brothers improvised, stopping at a hardware store which also happened to be a recycling site where they found discarded cans.

Dean had done some work, cutting the cans in half after Sam insisted they wash them. The hardware store had been kind enough to drill some holes into the wood pole they purchased, no questions asked.

Sam then took on the difficult job of making a hole in each can part, pulling a string through and then tying it to the pole.

Dean hadn't realized the level of Sam's profanity vocabulary until the aluminum cans bit into his hand.

"Shut up. I'm almost finished."

Dean shut the television off, and slid his legs from the bed. He went to change his clothes into the all black ones. Night had descended and they needed to blend in.

They reached the church, the doors were locked. Catholic churches at one time were open all the time to provide solace and a safe haven. But, things had changed.

They used the side door; the front wooden doors were too exposed to the street. When they walked in they found a soft illumination, candles had been lit in the sacristy.

Earlier, while in the rectory Dean had placed a note in Father Martin's mailbox.

_Vince Eder needs someone to pray for his soul tonight._

The Winchesters figured the note would have some sort of reaction-either the priest would go to the church or the room filled with antiquities. Silently, they crept, coming closer to the sacristy, near the entrance to the room of relics.

The metal doors were open, leading to the downstairs vault. They made their way slowly down.

Father Martin, the younger priest, was praying.

"Dear Father in heaven I ask for Your Mercy. I need Your Divine Guidance, Wisdom and Intervention. . . ." The young priest was kneeling next to the skeletal remains of Saint Demetrius.

"You need God to run interference for what, Father?" Dean retorted, his voice echoing with effect through the enclosed space.

Father Martin twisted his body around, a shocked expression on his face.

"Hell-o, Vince Eder," Dean said, and watched as Father Martin's eyes glinted. It was similar to when they used the word 'Cristo' on a possessed person.

It was strange that this man was the embodiment of another soul, who had been haunting him, taunting him to kill a little boy.

"You sent the note." The priest came to his feet.

"We did. I find it a little annoying that you've been in my head telling me to kill little Jimmy. Not so cool." Dean walked around the possessed priest.

Father Martin touched the black jacket he was wearing. "I was reborn into this body to complete what I am supposed to do. Unfinished business."

Dean pulled out a gun on the priest. He had no idea why, his brother was blocking the exit, but he felt more comfortable with a gun in his hand. "Then why involve me?"

"You had unfinished business with me, boy. You came into the church at the perfect time. Divine Timing." Father Martin purred the words.

Dean used the gun to direct the priest to move closer to Sam. "Actually, my timing sucks for you."

Sam held the shakujo, and rattled it slightly. "Did you steal all those religious items?" But Sam must have determined that Father Martin had, because he continued speaking, "Father Gomes told us they there are used for healing. Are you trying to heal your soul?"

"What are you doing here?" Father Gomes came down the steps, and stepped between Sam and Dean.

"We were just talking to Father Martin." Dean replied, and pushed Father Gomes, the older priest out of the way. It was late; shouldn't the older priest be in bed? This was supposed to be an exclusive party, by invitation only.

Unafraid, Father Gomes took up the same position he had just been forced to vacate. "I know what you are."

"FBI agents," Dean quickly retorted. They now had one too many priests in the small enclave. He didn't know if they should do a Buddhist exorcism in a church, yet alone a room filled with holy Christian relics.

"Hunters, assuming the work of the Lord. Misguided." Father Gomes sneered, and shook his head. "You are not needed."

Dean didn't know how hunters had gotten a poor reputation. They fought evil, without pay. "Whoa, do you know that this guy wants me to kill Jimmy?" And that brought up another question he directed to Father Martin. "Why Jimmy?"

"They are insane, Daniel." Father Martin said to the older priest. He tried to step away from Sam, but Sam grabbed his arm. "I was praying and they broke in. . ."

"Father, watch his eyes," Sam directed the older priest. "Vince Eder."

And Dean knew Father Gomes had seen it, the flickering of light in his fellow priest's eyes, because he stepped away to a safer position.

"Now answer the question Vince, why Jimmy?" Dean insisted once more. He wanted to know how the puzzle fit together.

Sam released Father Martin's arm. "He's my son." The possessed priest shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck. He returned to stillness. "My son is not a good boy."

"Your son is dead. You killed him over twenty years ago. Jimmy is 6 years old."

"Kill the boy." Father Martin smiled a feral grin directed at Dean.

Dean backhanded Father Martin. "Stop it," he ordered. He had enough of someone messing with his thoughts, adding to the screwed up ones already inhabiting his brain.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked, and Dean gave him a quick nod.

Father Gomes found his words once more. "I'll take care of this. The Catholic Church has been doing exorcisms for quite a long time. Who do you think showed the hunters?" Father Gomes removed a flask of holy water and a crucifix from his pocket.

Dean couldn't resist making a comment. "Is this like what came first the chicken or the egg?" But his witticism was ignored.

"It's not a simple exorcism, father." Sam began to explain, "This involves a past life. Are you familiar with that?"

"Christianity rejected the idea of reincarnation since 553 AD." The priest held up the cross.

Dean pushed the cross down. "Let's take this upstairs." Dean began explaining the situation to the priest. "Awhile ago I exorcised Vince from his home. It's where we met." They had returned to the sacristy area, in front of an intricate golden box where the communion was located, above was a statute of Saint Anthony. "Sam, here, figured out that reincarnation was involved, and we spoke to a monk, who was nicer than you, at the Pittsburgh Buddhist Center." Sam had been holding Father Martin, and gestured for Dean to get a grip on the squirming man for a bit, and also handed him the shakujo.

"What we figured out was part of Vince's soul had been dealt with, the part that stayed attached to the house, but there was another part that was reborn to finish some misguided plan. And it was reborn into Father Martin," Sam had picked up the explanation.

"I figured that out. There was this movie," and Dean smiled as he finally recalled the name of the movie. "Little Buddha, and a soul can split. . ."

Sam interrupted his brother, giving the conclusion of their investigation. "Father Martin, Zachary Martin was born about 8 months after the death of Vince Eder, and he's been looking for his son."

Father Gomes looked at his fellow priest with confusion. "Jimmy is his son?"

"Reincarnated, maybe, but it doesn't make a difference since he isn't going to kill him." Sam said as he dropped the duffel hitched on his shoulder to the floor, and pulled out a few pieces of paper.

"And what about the artifacts that were stolen. . .someone else has been found. . .I didn't believe it was Robert, and knew something else was going on, especially when hunters showed up. "

Sam looked up. "We think the reincarnated spirit has not fully taken over, and that Father Martin was trying to heal himself."

Dean nodded, his brother had asked the monk what remained after a Buddhist exorcism and the monk had answered a happy, free person searching for nirvana.

"Dear Lord, how do you plan to stop him?" Father Gomes looked suspiciously at the two hunters.

"We're going to do a Buddhist exorcism." Sam placed paper cups on the floor in the shape of a circle, and filled them each with some sand. He then placed a stick of incense inside each one and lit them as he went. "Dean, you ready?"

Dean escorted Father Martin to the center of the circle with a push. Dean started shaking the shakujo, feeling very foolish doing it especially around the smoky incense. Father Martin tried to move beyond the boundaries of the incense circle, but was repelled back at each instance.

Sam started reading the appropriate sutra, the scriptures of Buddhism the monk had copied for them. Sam finished and paused.

Father Gomes had been standing with his arms crossed. "Now what?"

Sam cleared his throat. "We ridicule it. It makes it less an object of fear, and more of something to be pitied and brought under human control."

"Pardon me? This has gone on long enough. . ." Father Gomes stepped forward.

Dean blocked him with his arm. Dean was relishing this moment. "Vince, Vince, Vince, you make a deal with a kid that has no bite. Stupid, if you ask me. Then you start putting a voice in my head, and think that I'm not going to do something about it?" Dean shook the stick for emphasis. "Plain dumb, I am a hunter." He gave a crooked grin to Father Gomes. "Maybe you should have been reincarnated in Brittany Spears?" Dean let his arm drop from blocking Father Gomes.

"And that attack in the bathroom?" Sam added. "I didn't have to use the shotgun. You're weak."

The hunters looked for a reaction. In the pale light, and smokiness it was hard to notice, but steam was emanating from Father Martin's palms.

Sam then returned to reading more of the sutra, and Dean returned to shaking the shakujo until Father Martin cried out.

The incense smoke swirled together, making a cupola over Father Martin's head and then turning into a single smoke beam. The smoke then split into tendrils, finally evaporating into nothingness.

Father Martin lay on the floor, folded over. Father Gomes went immediately to his side. "Zach, are you okay?"

"What happened?" Father Martin took the older priest's hand and got to his feet. "I remember so much, not me, but me. . . I." He looked at his hands. "I stole from the church!"

"It's all right, Father. You didn't do anything that can't be fixed." Sam placated the distraught young priest.

And Dean thought on all the times people had died because they found out too late to help. It was nice to get lucky every once in awhile.

"I think it is time you two leave." Father Gomes said as he wrapped an arm around Father Martin's shoulders and assisted him.

"Jealous, cause hunters can do it better?" Dean quipped as he shook the shakujo again. He was starting to like the wooden stick, and the strange noise it made.

Sam pulled Dean's shirt, and Dean allowed himself to follow. "Father, good luck."

They exited the church into the cool darkness of the night, leaving the two priests to clean up after them.

"So are you okay?" Sam asked, duffel bag on his shoulder.

"Yeah, no more unfinished business." Dean replied, understanding why the Buddhist believed in reincarnation and its ability to right wrongs. "Just you and me and a demon to catch."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnssnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnssnsn

August, 1996

Saint Marie, Idaho

Sam could tell Dean was awake, but languishing in bed. The youngest Winchester glanced at the digital clock, and sat up.

"Sammy, someone made coffee." Dean commented, and still hadn't moved.

Sam knew there wasn't an unknown attacker in the kitchen. It was their father. Who would cross the thick salt lines in the misty morning and make coffee? Demons were not that hospitable.

Dean followed Sam out the bedroom door, and there enjoying a cup of coffee was John Winchester, a few days growth of beard and a smile for his sons.

"All packed up, just waiting for you boys."

"Okay, just give us a minute." Dean pushed his brother towards the kitchen. They would need a quick breakfast.

"You've got five, and Dean, you'll be driving the Impala. Marlon gave me the truck." John leaned back to see his son's reaction. Sam was shocked himself.

Dean was reaching for the milk and orange juice in the refrigerator and turned around slowly. "God, Dad, thanks." For a moment Dean seemed to have forgotten all about breakfast.

"Marlon says you boys did well. Kept out of trouble and helped him out." John stood up, poured the remnants of coffee in the sink and ran some water over it. He went towards the door. "We gotta go boys. School stars next week, staying a spell in the western part of Massachusetts. You'll like it there."

And Sam had remained in the hallway, not entering the kitchen, being adamant. "Now? What about my friends?" Sam said to the shut door as his father exited.

He stormed forward, but Dean caught his arm, gesturing to the two glasses of juice, milk and cereal on the table. "Just leave a note, Sam. Adam'll understand."

Sam was furious at his brother. Their father had literally waltzed in and changed their lives. It was unfair. He had made friends, and wanted to keep them. He brutally shook his brother's hand off. "A note, Dean? We spent three months here. I hung out with him everyday. You don't get it."

Dean clenched his fists open and close. "I get it Sam. We aren't in some alternate universe where we have friends and people to count on. It's just us, the three of us." He gestured with his hand to their father waiting outside, Sam and himself. "That's it. That's all you can count on in this life."

Sam stomped his way back to the bedroom, ignoring breakfast.

It wouldn't always be just the three of them. At some point Sam knew he would leave the circle, find friends and more. Be finished as a hunter. There would be more in store for him in this life than hunting, no matter what Dean said.

The End

For Brotherhood fans please be on the lookout for The Mongoose Conspiracy coming on Tuesday by Mog and Me. If you are looking for something funny, this will be it.


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